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“I know, angel. Doesn’t it look perfect? I picked it out.” The last part he addresses to Moreen, whose smile is completely gone, replaced with nothing but disgust.
“I wonder when they’ll bring in the second cake,” Chester whispers in my ear, and a shiver runs over my neck when his warm breath touches my neck.
“Another cake?”
“Oh yeah,” he whispers, and this time, his lips do touch my ear. My breathing stops when it happens. I don’t know how to behave or how to keep my heart from skipping a beat. Why is it skipping a beat? This is my neighbour, for goodness’s sake.
“They can’t even decide on a birthday cake for Livia, so normally there are two. They are spoiling their daughter, without truly knowing, just because they can’t agree on anything.” My heart stops skipping for Chester and instead my eyes search for Moreen. It breaks that beating organ in my chest to hear what their life is like, and all the things Moreen has told me make me want to stand up and hug her, offering her what little comfort I can.
It must suck to disagree with your partner every single day. Poor Moreen, but at the same time, I remember what Chester told me. How he too grew up in an environment where his parents only fought. It makes my heart ache to imagine a young Chester, wondering when his parents will stop arguing and finally love each other. Sometimes they don’t even see the damage it’s doing to their children. I’m certain Chester’s parents didn’t want to scar their son, and Moreen would never intentionally hurt her daughter because of her issues with Sebastian.
“How terrible,” I whisper, staring at Moreen’s fake smile, but her eyes are always twisted, matching with a particular type of suffering.
“Yeah,” Chester whispers back, and it makes me turn my head his way. His voice gives away just how much he understands their situation as do his eyes that are turned down, and the sad knowing smile on his handsome face.
I have the desire to reach out and drop my hand on his face. To give him some form of comfort, but before I can, a piece of cake is dropped in front of me by Moreen. The plate shakes, and the cake wobbles because of how hard she threw it down.
“Please don’t enjoy the cake. It would be great if you could even tell Sebastian how much you hate it,” Moreen says.
“Where’s the second cake?” Chester asks, grabbing his fork before stealing a bite from my piece. For a second, I don’t know how to react or what to say, but I do feel the flush spreading over my cheeks.
“Don’t even ask,” Moreen mumbles, eyeing Chester munching away.
“It’s marvellous though, Moreen.”
“Of course, it’s marvellous. It came from a fucking expensive bakery,” Moreen snarls while rolling her eyes.
“I’ll make sure to hate the cake,” I promise Moreen, even though it looks mouth-watering, and I want to sink my teeth in it.
“Thanks.” She sighs before looking around the table, seeing how everyone seems to be enjoying the cake. Her eyes blink rapidly as she visibly snaps out of it, her large eyes then falling on me.
“I’ve been meaning to ask something, but I realised I don’t have your phone number. Would you like to play tennis tomorrow morning? You can bring your best friend with you. Actually,pleasebring Topper with you. I need to ask him a question.” Her question catches me off guard. The last time I played tennis with Moreen, it went terribly. She’s not a great player, and I’m very competitive when it comes to the sport I’ve been playing since I was little.
“I have to check with Frederic. I can’t drive,” I respond tactfully because it’ll give me time to figure out if I’m up to play another terrible game of tennis. Though, I do like hanging out with Moreen.
“Chester can bring you.” My mouth falls open, feeling my plan go down the drain. “Right, Chester?” My eyes snap my neighbour’s way before I discreetly shake my head no. His lips tremble; it’s clear he wants to burst out in laughter.
“No problem at all. I’ll drive.” My mouth opens even wider, out of shock. I should have known he’d agree to drive me just to mess with me.
“Great. See you tomorrow morning, then.” Moreen turns around and walks back to her seat. I hit Chester’s shoulder with my hand when she’s out of my sight.
“She’s terrible at tennis.” I drop my hands on the table. I want to smack that smug smile off his gorgeous face. But Chester only shrugs his shoulders before rubbing the spot I hit.
For goodness’s sake, I guess I’ll be playing an excruciating game of tennis this weekend. At least I’ll have my best friend with me.
Suddenly, Chester leans forward, closing the space between us. My breathing stops, feeling his body heat warming my body. I can’t move as he leans even closer, and my heart speeds up.
It’s that freaking smell. That cedar and cardamom scent that makes me want to close my eyes and breathe it in deeply. He drops his head on his hands, and for a few seconds, he intently stares my way. I don’t dare look into his eyes because it freaks me out.
“Talking about mornings, want to tell me what you were doing Wednesday morning?” Oh god. Not this.
I press my lips tightly against each other, but I’m frozen in my seat and too embarrassed to turn my head his way. I want the world to split open and swallow me whole. This was the conversation I had been fearing the most. I thought he had completely forgotten about it, but apparently, he has been waiting for a kid’s birthday party to discuss it.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I lie, trying to figure out how I’m going to get out of this situation. I could stand up and run away, which sounds bloody brilliant because I so don’t want to talk about it.
“You don’t know? Let me refresh your memory then,” Chester whispers closer to my ear. I have trouble swallowing, and my ears feel impossibly hot along with my neck and face. A lump grows in my throat as Chester drops his hand on the back of my warm neck. But my body is frozen in place. I want to run. Quick and far away from everyone. Taking a plane to the other side of the world sounds about far enough.
His hand spreads out before his thumb starts to caress my neck softly, and I tug on my collar, hoping it will help me breathe better. Bloody hell, now he’s just trying to seduce me, and I’m pretty sure it’s working, considering my toes are about to curl up from the soft breathing against my neck and that hand that won’t stop moving.
